


Fit as a Fiddle (and Ready for Love)

by LiraelClayr007



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, seriously...just fluff and nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 18:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: And then Spock smiles, and winks, and Kirk drops the sandwich because he has no idea what can possibly be going on.But everyone else acts like everything is perfectly normal.So that’s the question, then. Is everyone else going mad...or ishe?Everyone but Kirk eats their food, chatting away about the ship and the crew and planets they’d like to visit. As they finish they wander away to explore until it’s only Spock and Kirk left, sitting side by side. Kirk knows he must have a bewildered look on his face, because every molecule in his body is confused.***In which Kirk finds himself on an away mission that does not go at all as he expects.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 103





	Fit as a Fiddle (and Ready for Love)

**Author's Note:**

> I needed something to refresh my brain today, and this little idea jumped at me and wouldn't leave me alone. So have a bit of kirk/spock silliness. Hope it makes you smile. 💙

The sky is like the inside of a seashell, pearly pink and soft with sunrise. Or is it sunset? It feels new, like the land around them is waking up.

“Is that sun rising or setting, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asks, curious. He can’t remember where on the planet they’d been put.

“Rising, Captain. It will be full daylight within sixty minutes.”

“Excellent.”

He looks to the rest of the team, exploring. McCoy and Scotty, Sulu and Uhura. _It’s a strange away team_, he thinks. _Especially since Uhura is carrying a sword. And why is McCoy eating an apple?_

“Captain, there are signs of a picnic in the next clearing,” says Sulu.

“Scout ahead,” says Spock. “We need facts, not supposition.

Sulu tiptoes ahead, darting from tree to boulder to tree. He hides behind a tree trunk not much wider than his arm, theatrically peeking around it. He turns back to the others, grinning widely. “Yes!” he shouts. “Definitely a picnic!”

They rush to gather on the red and white checked blanket, McCoy and Spock pulling food and drinks from the basket and passing it all around. Uhura prods her jell-o with the tip of her sword.

“Is it safe?” she asks. She looks skeptical.

“Spock,” Kirk says, “I don’t think this is a normal away mission.”

“Indeed,” Spock replies. “The jell-o is normally orange. This time it’s grape.”

Kirk wants to protest, but Spock just quirks and eyebrow at him and pats the empty place on the blanket. “Your seat, Captain.”

He sits beside Spock, who hands him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Strawberry,” says Spock. “I think you’ll like it.”

And then Spock smiles, and winks, and Kirk drops the sandwich because he has no idea what can possibly be going on.

But everyone else acts like everything is perfectly normal.

So that’s the question, then. Is everyone else going mad...or is _he_?

Everyone but Kirk eats their food, chatting away about the ship and the crew and planets they’d like to visit. As they finish they wander away to explore until it’s only Spock and Kirk left, sitting side by side. Kirk knows he must have a bewildered look on his face, because every molecule in his body is confused.

“Jim,” says Spock, resting a hand on his knee. And Spock keeps talking but Kirk has no idea what he says because Spock’s hand is on his knee. It’s actually higher than his knee, more like on his thigh, and his thumb is making soothing little circles, and far from soothing Kirk they are putting every bit of him on high alert. Because something must be wrong with Spock. Spock doesn’t just touch him. Or call him ‘Jim’ on an away mission. He barely calls him Jim when they are off duty, and even that took quite a lot of reminding first. 

Okay, so maybe we’re going with the “everyone else is mad” theory.

But Spock looks completely sane.

“Spock!” It comes out a croak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Spock, something is wrong.”

Spock is caught off guard, to say the least--Kirk doesn’t interrupt him often, and never without good reason. He doesn’t say anything, just urges kirk to go on with his eyes, but while Kirk is trying to find the words to say Spock reaches up and brushes a lock of hair off of Kirks’ forehead.

Kirk jumps. “This! I don’t--we’ve got to--I just—”

“Jim, you seem distressed.”

“Distressed?” He feels wild. He feels lost and confused. “I’m a bit more than distressed. I’m…”

Kirk jumps from his knees to his feet (somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders if his crew know he practices moves like this in his quarters) and does a 360º scan of the area. All he sees is the away team. they all seem perfectly normal, although upon closer observation they are all doing things he’s never seen them do before. Uhura has sheathed her sword and is climbing a tree. “Uhura,” he calls. “I really don’t think you should be climbing a tree while wearing a sword. It looks...dangerous.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Captain! I’m a licensed swordswoman. I’m completely authorized.”

Scotty is walking in the shade, reading a book of what looks to be Klingon poetry--which he’s holding upside down. While Kirk watches he bursts into laughter, wipes his eyes and says wistfully, “Ah, I wish I could write like this.”

Sulu and Bones have somehow acquired a baseball and two mitts and are playing catch. Sulu grins at him and shouts, “Want to play, Captain? Uhura can pick another glove from the tree.” Kirk looks at the tree uhura is climbing and, sure enough, there are baseball gloves of all shades of brown hanging from it like oddly-shaped fruit.

“Maybe later,” he says weakly, sinking back to his knees.

Spock is practically radiating worry by now. “Jim, something is clearly amiss. Why don’t you lie down here, Doctor McCoy can examine you.”

“I don’t think…” Kirk starts, but then Spock takes him by the shoulders and gently leads him down until his head is on Spock’s lap.

_Well_, he thinks. _This is something new._

Soon Bones is there; he opens up the picnic basket and pulls out a heavy brass spyglass. “Perfect,” he says. “This’ll make it easy to spot the problem.” He crouches down beside Kirk, aims the spyglass at Kirk’s forehead, and peers through. “Just as I suspected,” he says. “Perfect REM activity. Fit as a fiddle and ready for love.”

“You’re sure, Doctor?” Spock asks. “He seems very agitated.”

“His heart rate’s a bit elevated, but that’s just because he likes the feel of your hand in his hair. Nothing at all to worry about.”

Kirk closes his eyes. Something very strange is going on here, but he _does_ like the feel of Spock’s fingers in his hair. He wonders, for a fleeting moment, why they’ve never done that before.

“I think we should go back to the ship,” he says, “maybe even spend some time in quarantine.” But there isn’t much authority to the words, and soon he finds himself slipping into sleep, entirely soothed by Spock’s presence and, soon, his voice.

“Just sleep, Jim. It will be alright.”

The words are felt as much as heard, a breath on his forehead. But he must imagine the kiss that punctuates the words. Spock would never…

When Kirk opens his eyes he’s in his quarters, on his bed, wearing lounge pants and nothing else. for a moment he’s disoriented, wondering at the change of scenery--not to mention clothing--and then for more than a minute all he can think is that he misses the feel of Spock’s fingers in his hair.

He sits up, blinking away sleep. “It was a dream,” he says to the empty space. “Just a dream.”

He should be relieved. It had been so _strange._

So why does he find himself feeling almost...disappointed?

_TWO WEEKS LATER_

“What is our status, Mr. Spock?”

Spock turns to kirk, stands with his hands behind his back. “Most of the crew has been transported down to the planet for shore leave, Captain. We have a skeleton crew on board, volunteers who have volunteered to take their shore leave next month.”

“Excellent,” Kirk says. “And what about you?”

“I’ve got some reading to do in my quarters, and some correspondence I’ve been meaning to catch up on.”

Kirk waves a hand at this. “Nonsense! Spock, this is your vacation. Live a little. This is a beautiful place to relax. Why don’t you come down with me, there’s a nature preserve I’m planning to visit. Hiking trails, waterfalls, local wildlife.”

Spock just looks at him.

“Come on, Spock. You can’t spend _every_ shore leave in your quarters.” He picks up the backpack that’s been resting at his feet and slings it over a shoulder. “Look,” he says, hoping Spock doesn’t notice the slight quaver in his voice. “I even packed us a picnic.”

Spock raises an eyebrow.

“A picnic?”

Kirk flashes his most winning and hopeful smile. “A picnic!”

“A picnic,” says Spock, as if he’s testing out the idea. “Hiking and a picnic. That could be...agreeable.”

“Let’s get you packed then!” Kirk puts a hand on Spock’s shoulder, just for a moment, as they walk toward the turbolift.

“Yes,” says Spock. “I think shore leave could be quite agreeable.”

Kirk’s steps are light. _And this_, he thinks, _is what hope feels like._


End file.
